


I gotta keep you with me

by ambitioncutsusdown



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Memories, Mentions of past abuse, Stisaac Week, mentions of minor character death, the alternative to 3.11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 11:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambitioncutsusdown/pseuds/ambitioncutsusdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The words echoed in his mind, over and over again, a mantra that never ended. <i>You go with Stiles, you go with Stiles, Isaac, you go with Stiles</i>.</p><p>Time flashes before his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I gotta keep you with me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Stisaac Week. Prompt by lila-zacharov: "What if Isaac had been Stiles’ anchor in 3.11"  
> Goes with [this](http://ambitioncutsusdown.tumblr.com/post/65996893250/stisaac-week-what-if-isaac-had-been-stiles) post :)

Stiles didn’t know it was possible to be so stunned your heart actually stopped beating. After months of battling  _creatures of the night_ , he figured he was pretty much immune to surprise, like nothing could get him down anymore. Werewolves, kanimas, banshees, hunters… just throw them at him and he’d handle it. No big deal, not anymore.

Instead, it were a few simple words, spoken by Deaton (a druid, for god’s sake. The  _druid_ -part should be more of a shock than his words) that made his mind shut off, go quiet, his brain giving up on trying to understand what the hell was going on.

Lydia and Allison were standing next to each other, fingers linked together (a physical way of showing comfort? Stiles didn’t know), but they also looked surprised, just like any other person in the room.

“Isaac, you go with Stiles,” Deaton said.

The words echoed in his mind, over and over again, a mantra that never ended.  _You go with Stiles, you go with Stiles,_ Isaac, you go with Stiles _._

Time flashes before his eyes.

_He’s six. Isaac is also six. Someone, a woman, (Isaac’s mother, he doesn’t remember, but it’s her) sighs and pushes the already tall for his age Isaac towards the still clumsy for his age Stiles._

_“Here, Isaac. You go play with Stiles.”_

_They crown themselves kings of the swingset and stay there the entire afternoon._

_He’s eight and they have to read a book in pairs. Stiles is already on his way to Scott, but the teacher quickly stops him, mutters something under his breath about the two of them not being able to do anything together._

_Instead, he points at a quiet kid, in the back of the class, and says, “Isaac, you go with Stiles.”_

_Isaac reads to him in a soft voice, attentive, making Stiles (who can never sit still – ADHD say his parents. He doesn’t know what it means) listen in awe. He doesn’t move until the story is over, and doesn’t even complain when Isaac just starts a second, and third, and fourth._

_He’s ten and staring at the guy standing in his living room, at the woman behind him who has tears in her eyes and is clutching her handbag tightly, almost nervously. The boy is holding a book and refuses to look at anyone. “Isaac, you go with Stiles,” Stiles’ father says gently. He nods towards his son, and Stiles knows it means he has to take Isaac to his room._

_He suggests they play, but Isaac refuses, says he’d rather read. Stiles shrugs and lets him._

_At first, he reads silently, then aloud, and finally he pushes his book aside and tells his own story. Tells how his brother died in the army and how his father isn’t nice and how his mother cries a lot. Stiles in turn tells how his mother is often sick and it makes them all sad. Then they sit in silence until Isaac and his mother go home again._

_He’s eleven and looking down at his mother’s grave. He doesn’t cry, because he doesn’t have any tears left. His body is empty, just like his mind and his willpower. He’s just tired, so tired. The only person who’s allowed to touch him is Scott, so when they’re allowed to leave (her coffin is down, under earth, dead and buried. She’s never coming back) Stiles clings to him and chokes on a sound, sobbing without tears, only a low, pathetic noise._

_When Scott tries to pull away, Stiles protests and clings tighter to him. Scott hushes him softly, mutters something to someone Stiles can’t see. “Isaac, you go with Stiles,” he says._

_Seconds later, a tall, slightly awkward boy is in front of him, wrapping long arms around Stiles’ waist. He continues sobbing in Isaac’s shoulder for he doesn’t know how long._

_He’s fourteen and sitting in class, talking to Scott and not paying attention in the slightest. The teacher has warned him three times already, but Stiles feels jittery, can’t help it. he glances to the back of the class, where Isaac is supposed to sit, but the chair is empty. Has been for three days. He doesn’t like it in the slightest._

_The next day, Isaac is back, but it shows quickly that the teachers don’t know what to do with him. He refuses to talk, to work, to do anything. He looks tired, his eyes red-rimmed (from crying? Lack of sleep? Allergy? Something else? Stiles wishes he knew). Day after day is more of the same, though one day, when the teacher reaches out to touch him, Isaac starts screaming. He screams and screams and screams, loud and painful, until his throat is raw. Scott is the first one to reach him and manages to silence him with whispered words. Quickly, Stiles is on Isaac’s other side, worry in his eyes. He tells Isaac it’s okay, that he’s fine, that he’s safe here. Isaac visibly calms down, but Stiles can see tears leaking from his eyes._

_“Stiles, take Isaac outside for some air. I’ll call his parents. Isaac, you go with Stiles,” the teacher says kindly, obviously hoping for the best._

_Stiles walks outside with the other boy. When Isaac reaches for his hand, Stiles laces their fingers together. Isaac tells him about his mother, how she died five days ago (suicide, he says. Stiles shivers). He doesn’t say anything and let’s Isaac talk, because he knows how much it hurts._

_He’s fifteen and in the hospital, waiting for Scott and his mother (his father has an evening shift, and somehow he doesn’t trust Stiles to be alone at home, but he does trust him in the hospital. Melissa’s shift ends in thirty minutes and then they all go to the McCall house where Stiles will spend the night)._

_Scott is talking to another boy, someone he met the other day, again while waiting for his mother._ _Stiles doesn’t mind, only it makes him more bored than he already was. The magazines don’t hold his attention, and he’s forbidden to walk around. So mindless waiting it is._

_Until a familiar guy walks in, clutching his forearm. He’s alone, which is kind of normal (because Isaac is always alone) but also kind of a surprise (because why is he alone at the hospital? Shouldn’t his father be with him?)_

_The receptionist listens to what he’s saying. Stiles tries to eavesdrop but doesn’t catch anything._

_Maybe that’s why he flinches when she calls out to him. “Stiles, can you occupy this boy while he waits for a doctor? Isaac, you go with Stiles.”_

_Glad for the distraction, Stiles talks about anything he can think about. It only later seems weird to him that Isaac hadn’t said anything at all._

_He’s sixteen and just heard the story of Isaac’s father._

_A lot of things make sense suddenly._

He’s seventeen, and Deaton just explained what’s going to happen. Emotional tether. Push you under but also pull you back.

Deaton also just said, “Isaac, you go with Stiles.”

Maybe he shouldn’t, but he feels oddly calm when he looks at Isaac and nods. The other’s hands are strong when they push him into the water, but also warm and familiar. They stir something inside of him, and when he looks up, sees Isaac hovering over him, he thinks that maybe Isaac knows it too.


End file.
